


all our friends are heathens

by dirtmemer



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, Seijou Villain Team AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtmemer/pseuds/dirtmemer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Technically,” you say, shoving your arm around someone's neck, snapping it quickly. “<em>We're</em> the big bads.” </p><p>“Technicalities,” Oikawa says. “Not important. But point taken, Makki! Keep the good guys off our back, then.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all our friends are heathens

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [seijou villain au](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/207826) by catfeindraws. 



> _Why'd you come, you knew you should have stayed_  
>  _I tried to warn you just to stay away_  
>  _And now they're outside ready to bust_  
>  _It looks like you might be one of us_  
>  \--Heathens, Twenty One Pilots

“Get this,” Matsukawa says, his teeth sharp and gleaming from where they're clamped around a cig. He spits it out, blows the smoke in a perfect ring, and all the guards float up in the air, screaming and squirming helplessly. He quirks his mouth up, just one side, and the guards all shoot up, up, up, shouting like they're on the world's scariest rollercoaster ride. They probably are. His foot lands on the cigarette, crushing it neatly beneath the heel of his shoe, and gravity graciously dumps the guards back down on the ground. Most of them are crushed, twitching helplessly, and Matsukawa snorts out a loud, “Ha! They look like those ants that I used to step on when I was a kid.” 

“Nice,” you say, shooting him a thumbs up. Matsukawa's grin is silent and vicious, a beatific gleaming slash, showcasing all his omnivorous teeth. He's got his arm wrapped around your waist as he signals Oikawa, his fingers pressed to the bones of your hip. 

“Thirty seconds, boys,” Oikawa's voice floats from the comm line, staticky and disembodied. “Make 'em count.” 

Matsukawa seizes you neatly by the waist, hurls you down the roof you're standing on with a smile on his face. You go down, down, down, the sensation of falling churning your guts into a loud mess. He catches you, floats you down gently, landing next to you with a soft click of his shoes. You check your watch. Twenty five. 

You make it right on time, just barely scraping the time limit. Iwaizumi is waiting for you at the door. Or, what used to be a door, but is just a bloody mess of twisted metal. His hands are dripping, and he says, through bandages clenched in his teeth, pulling them tight across his hands, “Oikawa's waiting. Right, straight, right, right, left. Ammunition's behind the tarp.” 

“Want me to heal that?” you ask. Iwaizumi gives you his hands obediently, barely even wincing when his bones crack loudly, growing back in motions that has to be painful. Matsukawa leans into you. His cold fingers find the bruise blossoming at the nape of your neck, and he pushes. 

“Stop that,” Iwaizumi says to Matsukawa absently, a force of habit. 

“Don't mind,” you say. Iwaizumi slips his combat knives from his belt, thumbing at them, testing their sharpness. Matsukawa sniggers, pulling his gun from his holster, reloading it in quick, stiff movements. 

“Is your silencer on?” Iwaizumi asks. Mother hen. 

“Yeah, _mom_ ,” Matsukawa says. You snicker. Iwaizumi looks at the both of you tiredly, shaking his head. 

“Let's go,” he says. 

“Why are we stealing spaceship parts?” you ask, casually ducking behind Matsukawa as he shoots a guard ten paces away. 

“Dunno,” Iwaizumi says. He digs his knife into the neck of another guard, and throws the other one straight into the eyeball of the poor sod behind him. Matsukawa finishes the guy off with a bullet between his eyes. Iwaizumi nods at him in thanks. “Probably Oikawa's idea.” 

“Iwa-chan, code blue,” Oikawa says into the comm line. Speak of the devil. “You on your way?” 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, pulling his knife out from the dead guy's eye socket. “Hanamaki and Matsukawa are here. You hidden?” 

“Yep,” Oikawa says. “No rush, love. Just my sense of smell this time.” 

“How're Kindaichi and Kunimi?” Iwaizumi says, neatly dispatching another guard. Just how many guards are there? You dodge the high arc of blood, rolling your eyes, and Matsukawa shrugs, mouth pulled up in a grin. Honestly. Mother hen. 

“Our kids are _fine_ ,” Oikawa says cheerfully. “Oh, here they come. Escort in five, darling. Keep the big bads off our back.” 

“Technically,” you say, shoving your arm around someone's neck, snapping it quickly. “ _We're_ the big bads.” 

“Technicalities,” Oikawa says. “Not important. But point taken, Makki! Keep the good guys off our back, then.” 

“Roger that, Captain,” Matsukawa says, firing off a salute to an imaginary Oikawa, all while shooting down three guards. “I just saluted to you, by the way.” 

Oikawa laughs, low and rough, amongst the static and gun fire and choked out screaming, and says, “Well then, your captain is putting his trust in you today, too.” 

You shudder. Oikawa is _scary_ when he gets intense. “More guards coming,” you say. 

“Clear,” Oikawa says. “Get out quickly, yeah?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you and Matsukawa say at the same time. 

A portal opens, courtesy of Kunimi, three paces away. Iwaizumi does a spectacularly complicated backflip, his knives cutting a bloody swath through the guards still in your way. You whistle, impressed, and Matsukawa grabs the goods. 

“Oikawa,” you say, “Give us another twenty.” 

“Ten,” Iwaizumi snaps, and the bones in his hands crackle and fold again. “Run.” 

You boot it out of there, with Iwaizumi boosting your speed, Matsukawa yawning all the while. “How much time you got left?” you ask Matsukawa. 

“Dunno,” he says sleepily. “Maybe five.” 

“That's enough,” Iwaizumi says. “Another lift up the fence, Matsukawa.” 

Matsukawa complies graciously, lifting all of you up into the air. You clear the fence, drop down on the other side. 

“Clear,” Iwaizumi says into the comm line. 

“Pick up on the way,” Oikawa's voice sounds fuzzily through the line. “I'm proud of you all. Good job.” 

“That's embarrassing,” you say. 

Oikawa laughs. “Oh, Makki, sweet child. Nothing is too embarrassing for the great Oikawa.” 

“That's even _more_ embarrassing,” Matsukawa mumbles foggily. 

Iwaizumi snorts. He switches his line to private, and you distinctly hear the click of Oikawa doing the same. A car pulls up, sleek and shiny. You take the time to appreciate it. 

“Get in,” Yahaba says, from the passenger side. Kyoutani is driving, then. “I've got orders to heal all your boo-boo's,” he says, and Iwaizumi scowls. 

Matsukawa is already snoring, his face pressed against your shoulder. 

You shove him in the car. Iwaizumi follows, pushing his hands towards Yahaba. 

Kyoutani is quiet. You look out the window, at the trees and grass that melt gradually into roads and buildings. The night is quiet, there's blood on your face, and you're hungry. Still. You flex your hands, your blood flecked fingers. Matsukawa snorts, mumbles something about flowers. 

“Yahaba,” you say. “Can we get Mc Donald's?”


End file.
